Page 20 of Peak’s Code

"We were twelve,” she said. “Do you know many twelve-year-old girls who are history buffs?” she asked.

"That’s fair,” he agreed.

The smile faded almost as quickly as it appeared. "Wren used to carry a little flashlight."

Peak looked at her. "She was scared of the dark."

“We both are.” Maeve swallowed hard. "I lied to her. I told her monsters weren't real, but they are.” Silence settled between them. The words came out so softly she barely heard herself say them.

A few minutes later, the tunnel split into two and Peak stopped. "I don't remember this."

Maeve looked at the fork that separated the two tunnels. "Your clubhouse built the tunnel?"

"These tunnels were here long before the club was even established,” he said. He swept the flashlight down each passage. "The left goes toward the marsh."

"Where does the right go?” she asked.

He frowned. "I don't know."

Maeve crouched near the dirt floor. "What are you doing?"

She pointed to the dirt. "There are footprints." Peak knelt beside her. Someone had been there recently. There were fresh boot prints. They were large with military tread.

His jaw tightened. "That's impossible."

Maeve shook her head. "No, it’s not. They found the tunnel."

"They couldn't have,” he insisted.

She looked up at him. "They have drones, money, and probably bought old county maps." Peak cursed under his breath. Whoever they were hunting wasn't just prepared; they'd planned for every escape route.

She stood. "We can't go left."

Peak nodded. "They'll be waiting."

"Then we use the right tunnel," she said.

He shined the light into the darkness. "There are no footprints going in that direction."

"No disturbed dust, either,” she agreed.

"It looks like it hasn't been used in years,” he said.

Maeve met his gaze. "Which means they probably don't know it exists."

Peak smiled. “Smart girl,” he praised.

She couldn't stop the tiny laugh that escaped. For a few precious seconds, everything about her crazy life had felt almost normal until Peak's phone buzzed again. This time it wasn't an unknown number; it was Captain.

Peak answered immediately. "Talk to me."

Captain's breathing was ragged. "They're pulling back."

Peak frowned. “They’re retreating?"

"Looks that way,” Captain said.

“How many casualties are there?" Peak asked.